


what awful things we must endure

by plinys



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: He’ll recover.She knows this.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizardbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/gifts).



He’ll recover.

She knows this. Even as she sits on the opposite cot of the cave’s medbay, watching with careful precision as Alfred sews the wound in his arm up. 

Still she feels a chill run through her. The scene is too familiar. Though it was not a cave then, but a tent, in the middle of a war zone. 

Watching as another man she gave too much of herself too lay bleeding.

Her mother had always warned her about the dangers of men. 

The way they corrupted, poisoned the world around them. The way they sought to subjugate others, their constant struggle for dominance. She has lived too many years away from her home has seen the worst in them. What would confirm all that her mother had told her. 

But then there are others...

She is not entirely certain that Bruce is different from those men. 

Some days she feels something stirring inside of her, something like hope, but also so much more. 

He is still a man at heart. 

One who she will eventually watch die.

Maybe not now in this moment, but eventually. 

The thought should frighten her. 

“You’re watching me,” Bruce says. His voice is not as deep and gravely as it is when he dawns the cowl. Though it’s not as smooth as it is when he dawns the  _ Bruce Wayne  _ persona for the public. Instead it’s a touch softer, intended simply for her. 

She tilts her head slightly in acknowledgement. 

She hopes he will let the topic drop. 

This is as foolish of a hope as hoping for forever. 

Bruce sits up despite his injury. 

An angry red line across his forearm. Blood dried to his finger tips. 

She barely even registers Alfred slipping away from them. The sudden sense of solitude between them, what had seem like an infinite gap between the cot she had been sitting upon and the one which Bruce had been laid out upon, now seems infinitesimal. 

“Come on then, you’ve got something on your mind, what is it?”

A sigh escapes unbidden past her lips.

“I forgot something is all.”

“Really now,” and of course this piques his curiosity. Ever the detective, even when she would rather he wasn’t. 

It instinctively brings a hint of a smile to her lips.

She can’t say it, can’t bring herself to form the words,  _ “I forgot how easy it was for you to die,” _ so instead she holds her tongue. Lets the smile speak for her.

“It’s nothing important.”


End file.
